Passing into the West
by Nemis
Summary: How is Middle-earth's weariness healed? Elrond and Celebrían find out together. Takes place after A Tale of Elrond and Celebrían left off, and prelude to High Princes of Tirion. Much angst.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing here, I just steal JRR Tolkien's characters and fool around with them. 

When I finished **A Tale of Elrond and Celebrían**, I wanted to write something light (I had no idea **High Princes of Tirion** would turn in such an AnGsT fest at that time). Subsequently, this was banished to my "to write" list.   
The idea never quite left me alone, with now this as a result.   
More parts are planned, but I can't really say anything on how fast they'll come (if at all). 

This would pick up where **A Tale of Elrond and Celebrían** ended.   
Angst, a little reasoning in vicious circles, and of course, Elrond/Celebrían.   
R for this first instalment, which can hopefully survive on its own as well. 

My thanks to kalurien for giving it a look-over as usual, and for providing me with the title (and telling me to post it). ;)  
Also a thank-you to all the people who put up with me on LJ.   
You are all great writers, and an inspiration to boot.   
I'm lucky to have you around. 

For when the Great Ring was unmade the Three Rings of the Elves failed also, and Elrond was weary of Middle-earth at last and departed seeking Celebrían, and returned never again.  
**'The Peoples of Middle-earth', the History of Middle-earth, volume 12, by J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien** (The Making of Appendix A)

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Passing into the West  
by Nemis

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She woke as she always had on Aman, alone. The warm body she had thought was beside her was not truly there, the larger part of the bed was cold. It was not the cold draft which came in through the window that chilled her flesh, and almost her heart in an attempt to protect her from the sadness which followed almost at once. 

So it was a dream, Celebrían thought, turning onto her back and staring at the ceiling. It had been merely another instant in which she had been allowed to see her husband, touch him, without actually doing so. Allowed to feel his hands caressing her thighs, loose strands of his hair tickling her bare skin... His lips so hot, warming her, returning to her, and with that completing her. 

With a soft but exasperated sigh she pressed her hands against her eyes. 

Had it truly been better to leave Middle-earth? So she could be subjected to these frustrating figments of her imagination? So she could feel this emptiness, would have to go on, confronted with his absence every single day... 

Harshly she dragged her fingers through her hair and squinted her eyes firmly shut. 

She wondered, not for the first time, if she would know of his death, if it were so. 

Even if evil had now been vanquished, and how heartening was it to believe it had been, what if it was not true? One mere unguarded moment, a twist of fate, the One's unforeseen intention, and it could be so; her loss would become too great to bear indeed. Would she be able to wait for him until he returned from Mandos? Uncertainty ruled her heart in this matter. She feared she would not be. Instead she would do that which she had been fighting so many years now, and join him, so that she could feel him, and the comfort of his fëa, even if that was the only thing that would remain for them. 

If he would decide to return. 

A sudden cloud pressed on her mind like a dull ache at this unwanted thought, and she understood all too well what Irmo and Estë had attempted to tell her not too long ago. _You are not healed yet, Celebrían._

Could she ever be healed with Elrond still in Middle-earth? 

For what if Elrond _had_ decided to remain there? That indeed all the contact they had shared after she left for Aman had been in her mind alone. What if he did not feel the urge to leave Middle-earth yet, the lands of his birth, the lands that he had helped protect, and which lay so close to his heart? She could not rule it out, it was an uncertainty that only his presence could chase away. 

How easy it is to harbour animosity after so many years... When I left, he insisted on it, he allowed me to go, but what if it is no longer so? What if he had a change of heart? What if he hates me for leaving?

All could have changed. 

It was one of those many moments when despair was so much easier to give into. She did not experience such instances as often as she once had, but when they did come upon her they never failed to tempt her beyond belief. 

But then, just before she allowed for tears, her gaze fell on a piece of clothing, grey in colour, draped over a chair on the far end of the room. For an instant she could not identify it. 

Not hers. Certainly not hers. 

Quickly she threw the blankets away, confronted with the morning chill which had free reign because the drapes had been pulled aside, leaving the window wide open, and the air able to enter and depart as it pleased. 

I have not left them so, she realised. 

Barefooted, she neared the chair and collected the grey tunic, for that was what the formless shape had been, a tunic. A single moment she simply stood there, the garment in her hands. The sense of it felt exquisite to her, not because of the fabric being expressedly soft, or beautiful, for it was not. Fine, yes, not common, but not extraordinary either. Pressing it against her face as if it were a last way to be absolutely certain, she smiled. It was only a mere detail that made the tunic so marvellous. The fact that it belonged to her husband. 

She was certain, quite, quite certain, that she had not brought this here. She had not packed it as a remembrance and taken it out last night in a desperate attempt to bring him closer. 

This was his. 

He had brought it.

He had worn it.

He was here.

It was as if she had woken in a strange place, and had simply needed a moment to recognise her surroundings. His warm body _had_ been beside her, his hands _had_ touched her skin, his lips _had_ met hers. Not a dream. Not a dream...

No one would deny Elrond Peredhil had an inclination for exploration. Perhaps it had lessened over the years, or by the strains of duty, but since neither mattered anymore at this point, it would be fitting if he were using the early morning to discover something of this place, the Gardens of Lórien. 

If he was here, she would find him. 

Leaving the chambers, heart filled with hope, she found herself in the hallway, the last stars shining down through the open parts of roof, late in departing, perchance because they were still speaking to the son of Eärendil, their brightest earthly companion. 

For a moment she felt sad for Elwing. To be wedded to a star... 

An honour, of course, but does honour hold one during the night? 

With calm but determined steps she walked through the unoccupied chambers nearby, allowing her eyes to explore only long enough to establish Elrond was not present. 

Her hand on the wall, feeling the intricate carvings beneath her fingertips, heightening her sense of awareness, she moved towards the balcony that bordered her rooms. She should have searched there first. The light was different, different than she had known it on Aman before, but so familiar. It was like an aura which she had taken for granted, and which she only now realised she had missed. The carrier of this light stood on the small terrace, deep in thought. 

His hair unbraided, strands of it were moved by the wind, but somehow the wind did not dare disturb this picture of silent contemplation. _He was eternal_, Celebrían thought, _yet somehow mixed with time_. 

Quietly she neared. 

As if he felt her presence, he turned, and she observed a most warm and wonderful smile play across his lips. His inner peace was not the same as it had once been, instead it was more one of tiredness now, caused by lack of rest, by pain, by sorrow, by suffering. It was the tiredness that came from Middle-earth. 

And yet he did not give into it yet, she knew, as he held out a hand for her, a glimmer of worry in his grey eyes, even if he knew all too well that due to his Edain blood he was more aware of the cold than she would ever be. 

'You should have dressed warmer, this morning is...' 

She looked at him, almost not believing, not accepting, and then suddenly feeling everything fall into place. Without speaking a word, she threw her arms around him, encircling his waist. Smiling, picking up on her thoughts with the same ease as he would have a thousand years ago, Elrond silenced himself and enveloped her with his arms as well, resting his head on hers. 

'I should not have left you.'

She did not answer; there was no need for it. It did not matter now.

From somewhere; the acoustics did not allow Elrond to precisely locate the origin of the sound, someone sang, and there was a soft music accompanying it. 

Where they, the two of them, had sought the inside the previous evening, others had remained, had not slept, but had instead told their tales, sung their lays, sitting there as they likely had for ages on end beneath the trees. 

Elrond closed his eyes. 

No more councils. No more decisions concerning life or death. No more separation from his other self. 

At this point, he was unable to decide whether he had paid a high price for this, his presence here, now. Or whether, somehow, he was being repaid for all his efforts. 

I did what I had to do, he thought. _Not because someone wished me to, not truthfully. I did what I believed was right..._

He felt her hands on his back, holding him close as he held her close, her face resting against his chest. 

Had it been worth it? To be without this for so long? This touch, this feeling? 

She had told him he would like it here. That there was so much to explore within his own mind. Yet a part of him felt lost, even in her embrace. It was as if an endless period lay before him, in which nothing and everything mattered, and he could not help but wonder what his reason for being here was. 

'Do you think,' he whispered, 'that it is possible to go without purpose for long?'

Celebrían gazed up at him, and began to tell him not to worry, and he wished to trust the unspoken words. 

But at almost the same moment, there was another whisper in his mind, and he was overwhelmed by a feeling of loss that he suspected had been lurking within him ever since he had left Imladris. He wondered if he had tried to forget it. As if that were ever possible. 

'Ssh,' she hushed, pulling him towards her. Closing his eyes he rested his head against her shoulder and felt her fingers go through his hair. 

Close to blame he was, blaming himself for not accompanying her to Aman, the knowledge that if he had his daughter might be here now foremost in his mind. It was a selfish thing to think, but there it was. Or what if he had gone to Lórien with his wife that fateful journey, to protect her as was his duty, as he had sworn to on that blissful day they were married? Perhaps all could have been avoided... So many things could have been avoided if he had simply tried harder. 

'Our daughter sends you her love,' he managed to whisper, before tightening his grasp on her, feeling her answer, infected by it as well. She slowly pulled him down with her, their embrace never breaking. 

Looking at her seated on the stone beside him, eyes as filled with tears as his own were, he realised this would not do. He would not burden her with this also; she had gone through so much already. These misgivings should be his own. 

The instant he chose to close his mind to her, he felt her fingers dig into his arm, and then her hands moving to touch his face, her lips everywhere, while he closed his eyes, suddenly alone, even though he should not be. 

'I do not deserve that, El-nîn,' she whispered, her voice breaking. 

He shook his head. 

'You do not understand, I cannot put you through this; you have endured so much already...' 

The panic that had come over Celebrían quickly turned into anger. It was as if they were separated all over again this time by choice instead of necessity. Not this time. She would not allow it. Grasping the front of his robes, her eyes met his intently, burning. 

'I would rather go to Mandos than allow you to go through this by yourself... It is not yours alone to bear. She was mine also.' Increasing the grip on his clothing as he averted his gaze she shook her head, tears blurring her vision. 'Mine also, Elrond.'

Bowing his head, a quavering breath escaped him, and he looked up at her, not able to speak. 

I wish for your help, but should not... I must bear this alone...

'It is not your solitary sorrow!' She shook him forcefully. 'You are not _ meant_ to bear it alone!'

Exasperatedly, she pushed herself away, chest heaving, tears on her cheeks, desperate. 

Bringing up a hand, aware her eyes remained locked with his, he touched her cheek, attempting to dry her tears.

'Celebrían...'

So much a part of him, how would he survive without her? Could he truthfully stand the pain he carried within him and live the same half-life he had lived before, during those years they had spent apart? 

'Elrond... please...'

He could not. He moved trembling fingers over her face. It was her pain also... If he was weak, then hopefully Eru had given her the strength to balance him. 

Somewhere between touching her face and his fingers reaching her hair, their minds were meeting again, and her relief comforted him more than he could have expected. 

Then, suddenly, she rose to her knees and embraced him, her lips meeting his with force, her feelings flooding him. Pulling her against him, he looked up at her as she released him from the kiss. 

Never again, promise me, never keep it from me again... I cannot bear it.

He nodded, touching her cheek. 

Catching his hand, she shook her head. 

'I have seen visitors here that experienced much pain and doubt while trying to come to terms with their pasts. As I have been told a stay in Mandos is confrontational, a healing can be that also. You must realise it is never the same, not predictable. Everyone has their pain. And to master it is never easy.'

He had not expected his time here to be short, nor had he expected his pain to be taken away with a quick and effortless movement of the hand of Irmo of Lórien. But he wondered what he had expected. It would be easy to go on like this, he thought, pretending nothing had occurred.

'It is often not wise to attempt to forget something without being reconciled to it,' she whispered. 

He looked at her. 

'The reconciliation is the healing?'

Rising, she offered her hand. 

'Often, it is.'

Taking it, he pushed himself up. 

'Often?'

'Come back to bed, El-nîn...'

'You will not tell me?'

Her eyes were regretful when she looked up at him. 

'I cannot tell you. I have not the answers.'

Silently they entered their chambers again, and Elrond absently discarded his clothing as Celebrían drew the curtains. He slipped between the sheets, joined by her a moment later. 

He felt as he remembered feeling when they had only just been married; both not yet used to sharing a bed, the luxury of being loved, of partaking in love. It was as if it was new, and yet familiar. 

From there, he recalled how at Imladris she would wander into his study randomly, sometimes merely to bestow a kiss on his lips and run her fingers through his hair. And how, when his duties had called him to other parts of the house, he would find silent indications of her presence there in his absence; a flower placed on the paper he had been working on, a note, lines of poetry in her hand. 

How she would quietly observe him from a distance and touch upon his mind. Glorfindel, if present on such occasions, had usually muttered the two of them were incorrigible, before stalking off, leaving them to proceed to the things newlyweds tended to engage in at such times.

Neither of them had come from Middle-earth unscathed. He embraced her gently. 

You said that no one should bear pain alone. _But you... _

She turned in his arms, resting a hand on his waist. 

My pain could not be healed entirely yet, El-nîn. 

Would it never be entirely gone then, the past, regret over choices made? he thought. It had to be something one could learn to cope with. They would together. They had to. 

We can.

At the quiet whisper he looked up to meet her eyes. He wished to believe her. But the exact answer as to how to achieve this eluded him. Instead of letting it worry him further, he concentrated on the only thing he seemed to be certain of at present. 

'I love you,' he whispered as he ran his fingers over one of her breasts, feeling her arch against him, her eyes closing. 

Pushing himself up, brushing the length of his body against hers, he found her lips, kissing her deeply as he moved his abdomen against hers. The muscles in his arms stood taut under the weight of his body, and he felt her move her hands over his upper arms. His entire body was alert to everything; every small movement, touch and thought. 

Celebrían embraced him as he kissed her. 

He seemed adamant to revive happier memories of Imladris. Slipping away for their first time of lovemaking, outside, the stars above them, the rest of Imladris continuing the feast without them. She recalled chasing away the sadness in his grey eyes. How they instead glimmered with love and pleasure, how suddenly the ancient Master of Imladris resembled a boy of not yet fifty springs. His years had counted more than hers, but it had not mattered. Long nights of chuckled whispers, followed by gasps of pleasure. 

'In a way we start anew. And yet not so,' he whispered, hands rediscovering familiar places on her body. 

'Yes,' she nodded, touching his face as tears filled her eyes again. 

'Do not cry, my sweet,' he whispered, moving his lips over her face. 'Please...'

Five nights and four days of pure bliss during which no one had asked for them, no one had interrupted them; they had lived as if there was nothing outside, no Imladris celebrating, no darkness looming somewhere just beyond the horizon. They had talked of everything that was important to them, had laughed and felt all the other felt, had loved, had learned, had forged the first link of a connection that was to last as long as Arda. 

It was now as it had been that time when they shared an actual bed together for the first time, having already tasted of bodily pleasure in the hours before, but somehow nervous all anew. He had been nervous then, an eternity ago. His experience had been elsewhere, he was wise Master Elrond in libraries and councils, not where it concerned a lady that was his wife, and the pleasures found in the bedroom. 

As he had then, he looked down on her, breathing heavily. 

Soft thighs pressing against him were almost too much, and he closed his eyes to search for composure. Fingers reaching out for his heated flesh ascertained he did not find it. She did not ask him, as she had not then, and the only thing that remained was to sink into her, if only to make her struggle shortly for breath and close her eyes in rapture. 

Who commenced it he could not tell, but then they were in motion, lips locked and bodies close, skin on skin, heat meeting heat. Gasping he felt her pull him closer, hands on his back, exacting pressure, and he turned his lips to her neck, pressing deep within her to make her arch up, allowing him to softly bite her neck, causing her to hoarsely moan. 

His eyes closed, he felt a hand on his face, leading him back to her lips, meeting her tongue, and it was impossible to think clearly. The hand went on to tangle in his hair, fingernails of the other grazing his spine. 

Raising himself slightly, he looked down on her, bringing up a hand to touch her face, sweeping away unruly strands of hair. 

Underneath him she met his movements, her slender body reacting on his every move. With a smile he ran a thumb over the blush on her cheekbone, and her eyes flashed open, their blazing blue pulling him in even more. 

The hand that had rested on his shoulder now travelled down his chest, halting at his abdomen before lowering further. Fingers teasingly urged him on, but he shook his head, not willing to increase speed. 

Forcing her legs apart further he buried himself deeper, feeling their bodies press against each other again. Kissing her, he felt her move her arms around his neck, a lazy tiredness overcoming her. Smiling, he continued, feeling her grip on him increasing, fingers digging into his flesh. Hand on her waist he could do nothing but watch her face as he moved, her lips pressed together now, as lost as he soon would be. 

The difference between them now was that they were both aware of how to influence the other, as if playing a game they had invented the rules of. As she gave in, Celebrían increased her grip on him and met his lips with bruising passion. Hearing her whimper, feeling her moan softly against his lips, Elrond felt his stomach flutter; all too well aware he was the reason for her pleasure. 

Resting his forehead against her shoulder he groaned, unwilling to give in, but she did not allow it. Hooking her legs around his waist, tightening around him, she felt him shake his head. 

'Meleth-nîn...' he grumbled warningly. 

'Melethron...' she answered, knowing how even her breath against his ear affected him now. 'Give in.'

He did. There was no other way. He felt the sweat on his back, the heat in his face, his entire body, her heat around him, and that was his undoing. All his thoughts gone, his head light, he gave in, spending deep within her. 

Rolling onto his side he embraced her closely, feeling her press him against her, and he contently kissed her shoulder as she cradled him against her. Pressing her lips against his forehead, Celebrían hooked one of her legs with his and smiled. 

They lay together a long time before Elrond broke the silence, his fingers caressing her back. 

'You know what will come, do you not? You have seen similar situations.' 

Closing her eyes, Celebrían nodded. 

'I... have seen others before us. I know what could lie in the near future.' 

Even if she had not intentionally wished to keep it from him, Elrond suspected she had not shown him everything. The worry for him seemed too present in her mind for that. Their worries for each other seemed to have control over many decisions. 

'I do not wish it to come between us, Brí.' 

Releasing him and turning onto her back, she gave him a fragile smile as he watched her intently. 

'It will not come between us, El-nîn. If we do not allow it to, it can only make us stronger.' 

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	2. Chapter 2

All I wish to do at this point is hug the people who I forced this upon. (Meaning the people who didn't have a choice when I dropped stuff like this on them/in their mailboxes. ;))   
Thank you for the comments; they helped me both in deciding where to make changes and to help me collect enough courage to finally post it. I fear much of it still doesn't make sense. Probably I'll be revising in less than a week. (Or maybe this is just cathartic writing.)

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**Passing into the West (part 2)  
**by Nemis

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The sun stood high in the sky when Celebrían stirred again. The time had long passed when she needed to consider her surroundings before she could tell where she was; she had grown used to the fact that ever it would be Aman. Instead her mind sprang to her earlier waking, but this time there could be no doubt where Elrond was; his arm around her, one of his hands resting on her hip. He was not asleep. She doubted if he had sought rest at all since arriving. 

And then, for an instant, there was something of the past, almost as clearly tangible as when it had occurred. A small body lay in-between them; breathing calmly, asleep, dark hair contrasting sharply with the white sheets. 

A deep urge to protect the small creature that was the sum of them rose in her, but then it was joined with the realisation that not the child or its image directly caused it, but her husband's memories which she had unknowingly shared...

'Elrond?'

The sound of her voice made the image vanish. She was uncertain whether she had wanted it to, but it had gone as if it had never been. 

'Aer maer, melethril,' her husband's clear voice answered. Celebrían wondered how aware he had been of it himself. 

'Aer maer,' she whispered while kissing his chest. 'How do you feel?'

Staring up at the ceiling a while, Elrond finally brought a hand up to his face, and then made a discarding movement in midair. Evidently he was occupied with other matters. For now, it seemed it would remain a shadow between them. 

Elrond did not believe he was able to do this. Perhaps it was his being half-elven, his Atani side, which made it different, even barred him from being healed. Or maybe, deep in his heart he did not wish to part with the sadness, the pain. It had been with him for so long, with such intensity, how much of it was too deeply connected to him to live without? He sighed. 

'I have the strange sensation that there is something I must do. As if my mind does not accept it that I sit somewhere, or lie here, doing nothing. It gives me a sense of having forgotten something, or disregarded.' 

He neglected to tell that as soon as he attempted to bring some order to chaos, his mind irrevocably would return to Middle-earth. 

Moving her fingers over his chest, as if there were a hidden pattern she was following, Celebrían considered his words in combination with the emotions she had felt coming from him. 

'As if you cannot find rest.'

Elrond nodded slowly, not speaking. Celebrían ceased movement and simply rested her hand on his chest, spreading out the fingers, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her touch. 

'It is because you have not yet let go of your duties in Middle-earth.'

He moved onto his side to face her. 

'You experienced this also?'

She held back the urge to nod as he touched her temple and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. 

'I did, yes.'

Initially, Elrond had been interested in her words because he could use them as a means of comparison. Abruptly, it became far more than that. 

'You overcame it?'

'I did.'

Placing his arm around her, he drew her closer. 

'How?'

'Many long walks.'

He smiled. Genuinely, something resembling relief in his expression also. His fingers fluttered over her cheek. 

'I would be prepared to try this.'

Kissing his chest she could not help but smile also. 

'I know some excellent routes.'

Lying back, Elrond grinned, but then slowly became serious once more. The last days, nay, not days, they had been mere hours, he had been torn between two emotions, both of them fighting for the upper hand; his own need for healing, and that of the person he loved most in Arda. In Middle-earth he had often considered what she had gone through, but here, now, his own pain seemed to take precedence. 

'Tell me, what duties could you not let go when you arrived here?'

Seeing her, much as she had been when he had first seen her, when he had married her; strong-willed, beautiful, _healed_, it was so easy to forget her past. He should have asked before. He had been preoccupied. 

'Being a mother, being a wife. My wish was never to hurt any of you, and yet by leaving I did.' Resting a cheek on his chest she shook her head. 'I feared... In a sense...' Closing her eyes she did not further attempt to voice the sentence. 

Elrond knew. He was aware of how she had not wanted to bring back his old fears. _Everyone I love leaves..._

'If you had stayed, the pain would have possibly been much greater.' 

The years after she left had been hard. But they could have been so much harder. There lay greater truth behind the words than he was willing to admit. If she had stayed, it would have meant her end. And with hers, his also. He would have been forced to see her slowly wither away, much like he had seen so many living beings do during his lifetime. She would have fought it all, perhaps for years, long years, but it would always have remained a lost battle from the very starting out. 

Nothing would have been the same. He had observed how while her body healed, the wounds in her soul only increased, as if there was some infection that spread, unnoticed, without a known cure. During her last year, he had even feared it was already too late. 

At the time, he had felt how she experienced it all. It had been an oppressing cloud, slowly but surely dominating who and what she was, all that he loved. With her, he would have faded also. With every passing day his strength would have dwindled, several steps behind her, connected so deeply there was no way to stop it. Their children would have had to deal with losing both their parents. 

'I have made peace with my departing at least, I think,' she told him softly. 'Even if I have not made peace with some of its consequences.' 

'Arwen did not choose as she did because you left,' he told her, only realising after speaking that perchance their daughter's choice had not been what she had meant. He had spoken of that which was foremost in his mind. 'I wished to say,' he added softly, 'that your departure... It would more likely... She wished to see you again. There is no doubt in my mind she considered you profoundly in this.' He shook his head, uncertain if his words had gotten his intention across. 

Celebrían swallowed and looked away when he met her eyes again. 

Suddenly Elrond discerned a feeling coming from her that made a shiver run through his body. 

'Oh, Brí,' he whispered, pulling her closer, glad when she rested her head against his shoulder, felt her arm slip around his chest, holding him equally close. He felt her quieten, and then, as if it had never been, it had gone again. But he had recognised it clearly. This had been the stuff of his nightmares, long after she had left Middle-earth. 

It brought forward his own memories, long hidden away in the depths of his mind, memories of a time when he had been healer and husband simultaneously, one doing all he could, while attempting to ward off the worries and fears of the other. 

He recalled how his fingers had examined her, in so different a manner from how he had only so shortly before touched her. 

The blood so red against her pale skin, making unprofessional tears blur his vision, making it almost impossible to continue. But he had done all which had lain in his power. When the next stage had come, he had been confronted with something far more difficult. The waiting had required so much more of him...

'You hide this from me,' he stated softly, stroking her hair. 'We had an agreement. Do not ever hide it from me.' 

Slowly but persistently she untangled herself from his embrace, sitting up and looking back at him. 

'It is not often I... it rarely returns, and if it does it is only for a moment.' 

He was aware of what she was attempting to do. He knew she had felt his reaction moments ago, how she had to have anticipated exactly that, how she wanted to spare him additional pain. He had tried to do the same; and it was easy to recognise her trying as well. But however much they both wished to, protecting each other was not a solution. Subsequently, to his mind it was not a viable option. 

'As you do not wish me to bear certain matters alone, I do not wish you to either, Celebrían.' He sounded almost stern. 'Do not shut me out.'

'It seems insignificant,' she whispered in reply, looking away. 'And you have many worries, El-nîn...' 

'No.' It was a simple statement, and merely speaking it made something in him return, a semblance of old conviction. Pushing himself up, he was hesitant to reach out to her, physically or mentally. 

'I worry for the sake of worrying, it is my nature, I cannot help it,' he told her carefully. 'But it is not in yours...'

Closing her eyes, attempting to regain her composure, Celebrían allowed him to reach for her mind quietly, and found him as gentle and soothing as ever. She took a deep breath. 

'You should not be confronted with this already.'

He had known there were still matters she had to resolve, that her healing had not been entirely complete. It was different from the manner in which he was tired, and yet similar. But he had not expected it to be this strong. She had spoken the truth when she had told him she did not experience it as often as she once had. And yet she had all but dealt with it.

Bringing up a hand with which to guide her face he made her meet his eyes. 

'We have survived this much already, you and I. You said it would not come between us. I tell you now I will not allow anything to come between us.' 

With a shake of the head she closed her eyes. 

'What if taking this upon yourself as well will be too much?'

Summoning assurance, Elrond placed a hand on her knee. 

'It will not be.'

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Their morning ritual was comparable to how it had once been, but was simultaneously riddled with curious small instances of awkwardness. Neither of them seemed entirely certain how to react to the other after their confrontations with unexpected past recollections, fearful of causing the unexpected stings the past seemed to bring. 

And there also was the distinct feeling that however much they might believe their lives had now returned to how they had been; it was not so. All those years ago they would rise, and then continue on, together or separately; to share time as a family or to see to their separate duties. There had always been something. Not so now. No Imladris to administrate, no household to oversee, nothing. 

Celebrían had thought that she had learned to live with it; when she had first arrived on Aman it had been a relief to not have the burden of responsibility any longer; it had weighed so heavily on her the previous year. But now, feeling what Elrond felt, she understood his loss, was reminded of something she had felt, even if it had been to a much smaller extent. 

Celebrían's eyes rested on Elrond as he despondently looked out of the window, but she said nothing, catching his hand instead, leading him along. Descending the wooden steps which led to the outside, they found themselves as much alone as they had been earlier. 

'Everyone has gone?' Elrond asked, as Celebrían wasted no time leading him into the dense forest which seemed to surround them entirely. 

'Not gone,' she replied, 'but you have no wish to see them.'

As they walked, he wondered if that was true. He concluded that it was. 

'Where are we going?'

She smiled at him mysteriously and released his hand. She then walked on and Elrond felt instantly alone. Taking several quick steps forward he caught her hand again, giving her a serious look. 

The smile of before had left her lips as she met his eyes. 

'You do not feel it, do you?'

He met her eyes uncertainly. 

'What?'

Closing her eyes she shook her head and brought his hand up to her lips. 

It was she who was most peaceful now, he thought. When she had let go of his hand he had felt something close to panic. But the forest seemed to soothe her. It did nothing similar to him. 

It was then that the trees became fewer, beams of light penetrating the leafage to fall on the forest floor, and a moment later they cleared the forest. It had appeared much vaster when they had first entered. Most likely few things on Aman were as they seemed. Tall blades of grass moved in the wind as they climbed the hill. 

For a short time, Elrond felt anticipation take a hold of him, a curiosity as to what lay beyond the top of the hill, to where Celebrían was clearly taking him. Upon arriving there, he was uncertain if he was disappointed. The view was magnificent, but it meant little to him. 

'It used to be all I had,' Celebrían whispered beside him.

He followed her gaze and observed the road below, the way they had walked yesterday, no doubt. 

'I wish it could mean that to me,' he replied, watching the endless space before them. He suspected it sounded uncaring. 

'All of me was focussed on that road, knowing that one day it would bring you to me again.'

He had no reply to give her and kept silent. Celebrían met his eyes. 

'You will find something like it also, something to concentrate on, to pour your hope into. And it will give you peace.'

'I do not think a road will give me peace.'

'You are in need of different things than I was, Elrond,' she told him, staring out before her. 

The words seemed lost on him as a storm seemed to suddenly rage behind the emotionless expression on his face. His voice was very quiet when he did speak at length. 

'I remember a time when we knew all the other was thinking, how to construe it. It helped us to find a sense of balance. Even if we know what occupies the other now, we fear to stumble and ruin all, fear to cause pain... We do all in our power to walk carefully, but in the process we have lost the stability.' He bowed his head. Celebrían placed a tender hand on his arm. 

'Give it at least a little time, meleth-nîn.' 

'Yes,' Elrond remarked dryly. 'We have more than enough of that.'

Taking a deep breath she plucked at his tunic silently. Elrond narrowed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh, fixing his gaze on the horizon. 

'Elros asked me once whether I realised how long the remainder of Arda truly was. He accused me of not understanding time.' 

Celebrían looked at him, his eyes avoiding hers, shoulders hunched. 

'I think back then,' he continued, 'my brother saw what I did not. That I made my choice because I wished life to remain as it was. He understood that it could never be so. He saw how time could destroy everything. He accepted it, where I denied it until I no longer could.' 

'Does time not also give us new things? Creates also, rather than only destroys?' she asked quietly. 

Nodding firmly he caught her hand. 

'You made me realise that. The children... Yes, yes of course it does, but after I saw my brother die, his children, their children, my cousins, all of them victims of time, I began to see it as something which tainted all for the worse. If you had not come to me after Gil-galad's death, I would have fled into bitterness, and who can tell where I would be now.'

Both seemed to contemplate the scenario. 

'Do you fear time?' Celebrían asked him unexpectedly. 

'It scares me how some things can be timeless where others are not. I imagine it is not difficult to forget time here, but I cannot help but wonder how I am to spend the rest of Arda without purpose.' 

'Are you so certain you will not find purpose here?' she persisted. 

He shrugged. 

'It all seems inadequate, somehow.'

'Compared to Middle-earth, you imply?'

Looking at him, she saw the unhappiness in his eyes. With a sad smile she stretched out her arms and he embraced her firmly. 

'Really, Brí, what am I to do here?'

'I could think of some things,' she whispered, kissing his ear. 'You shall find purpose if this is what you believe you need. But did you not once tell me you find the things you need most when you do not expressedly seek them? And perhaps you need more than a day to find it.'

The irony in her words did not escape him, and he pulled away, lifting his head to stare up at the sky. 

'Do you not think it strange that in Middle-earth you always had too few moments such as these, with no obligations, and now that you have them in abundance, you do not care for them?' Celebrían posed, looking at him. 

Elrond was not prepared to recognise the amusing incongruity in it all. 'I feel so tired, Brí.' 

Stepping closer she took his hand and kissed it gently. That wholesome peace that had always lain over Imladris had come from him. For so long he had made certain it was so, had he used part of himself to keep it. The same tranquillity was inherent to him still, but it was overshadowed by weariness now. 

_Small wonder, my love, _she told him._ What did it cost you to keep this peace all those years?_

But his thoughts had already travelled on, which worried her. This haste meant that his inner turmoil was more present than ever. She knew because she had experienced it herself. 

'What shall we do with the Ring, the least of Rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies?(1)' he whispered scornfully. Averting his gaze from the sky above, he stared into the distance again, the empty road before them. 'I had not the strength.'

'Elrond...'

He shook his head. 

'We deemed ourselves wise.' He laughed, but there was no joy in it. 'We sent Annatar away so he could go to Eregion and bring about the doom of others. We... We were not _wise_, Brí, we were _proud_. We prided ourselves in our choice. And then we went to Mordor thinking we could stop the Darkness. We thought we were so wise, and strong. So wrong we were. We went to destroy what we in a sense had created.'

He bowed his head. 'What Gil-galad and I did not know then, I knew when Isildur took the Ring as his weregild. Or perhaps Ereinion did see it in the end.' He finally looked at Celebrían. 'Does he talk of these matters at all?' 

'Sometimes. He hints at certain events he remembers, not much beyond that. But Elrond... The Númenóreans thought they could imprison Sauron, and you know where that brought them in the end.' 

'The idea that somehow it happened because it had to be does not provide much consolation.' He shook his head. 'And it is painful, if not entirely unexpected, to be confronted with the fact that my brother's wisdom did not live down to his descendants.' 

'Perhaps you want to concentrate on happier memories and work from there,' she offered. 'You do not have to resolve any of this in a day.' 

Shrugging, Elrond nevertheless allowed her to embrace him from behind. He leant his head against hers as she rested it against his shoulder. 

'Am I to be incessantly happy here? Or the opposite, since it is my entire life I have left behind? Am I to start anew, or somehow continue where I left off?' 

Very lightly she pressed her lips against his then, and he could be nothing but appreciative of the gesture. 

'I wish you to remember something,' she whispered. 'Close your eyes.' 

He did as she asked without questioning it, and found himself engulfed with warm pleasantness at once. 

It was the past where she took him, but long ago; those years which had been beyond anything else he could recall, years that seemed to have been the reward for waiting. 

Almost a year, she had been his, and from the very beginning she had enriched every single aspect of his life. As an alternative to rising before the break of dawn, she had kept him in bed, and he had learned to more appreciate the sun creeping into the room, the songs of the birds which perched on the high branches of the trees outside their window. 

It had to be the same year where she took him next, but now he could almost feel the cold of the season. Yet again it was something she had wished to show, something which she wanted to remind him of, but he could not recall what it was. 

Teasingly she waited a moment before showing it; the pool beneath the falls in which the water collected before it continued on into the valley was half-frozen, almost impossible shapes creating a marvellous sight, all white and glittering, while water still trickled and flowed over and underneath it. 

He recalled how the waterfalls of Imladris tended to lessen in quantity during winter with the river freezing over higher up in the mountains, but he had forgotten the beauty of it. In his early years he had ventured there often, but as work began to demand more of his time, he had passed up on many opportunities to watch nature's splendour. 

And now, as she had been then, his wife seemed adamant to show it to him once more. 

His face was betraying each thought going through his mind, and Celebrían was glad to see all brought him delight. A small smile played around his lips, the eyes in that serious face shone brightly, and she almost chuckled in delight. 

As an alternative for breaking this reverie with sound, she rested an arm around his waist, and waited for him to look at her, at which point she found his lips effortlessly. 

_It is never black or white alone, Elrond,_ she told him. _You_ _taught me that, and it bears remembering._

Exploring, he never strayed far from her mouth, always returning there, feeling her lips caress his face as well, carefully, peacefully, without the urgency they had experienced before, the rush of blood being less insistent now. 

_Be sure to remind me when you need to, celeb loth-nîn. Be sure to..._

*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^

Aer maer: good morning

1. Yep, taken directly from _The Ring Goes South; The Council of Elrond_

celeb loth-nîn: my silver flower 

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End file.
